Jekyll and Hyde
by truemizzie
Summary: It's not a tragedy. Kid did this to himself. Blink is bipolar.


Authors Note: This could be seen as a companion piece to Literature, because that's what I based it on, but you don't have to have read it in order to understand this one. That fiction actually gave me a few ideas, so keep posted. Oh, and I'm really keen to hear reviews for it, because I tried a lot of new things with it.

Oh, and this is really short, and has basically no description whatsoever. Just something I'm trying out again (see After the Fire for my first attempt). It's mainly because this is my first very violent fiction, and I don't want too much description. OH! And I don't own Newsies, but you already knew that.

Summary: It's not a tragedy. Kid did this to himself.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Contains self harm/violence.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

"Would you mind starting at the beginning…before this happened?"

"How long before?"

"Just…when anything started to seem strange."

The young newsboy watched Kloppman pace across the room. He began speaking.

"Well, we always kind of knew. He'd become odd sometimes."

"How odd?"

"Real odd. As if he wasn't even himself anymore."

"Not himself?"

"Not at all. It's like…it's like that book you showed us. With the doctor and the potion."

"Jekyll and Hyde?"

"Yeah."

"How often did it happen?"

"Not a lot. Some days he'd just start into it, you know? Usually he was really happy - almost too happy - but every once in a while he'd get mad at everybody."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No! Never!"

Silence. Kloppman sat down.

"He didn't touch any of you?"

"Not one bit. It wasn't like the book. It was like…instead of hurting other people, he'd hurt himself."

"How?"

"He'd punch at things, like his bed post. You should have seen him afterwards…his hands were covered in blood."

"Why didn't any of you tell me?"

"I don't know."

Kloppman hung his head.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten angry at you. Continue."

"Sometimes, if he was really mad, he'd pull chips of wood out of the beds and use them to cut himself."

"Did he ever say why?"

"No."

"Do you know why?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

The newsboy also let his head drop.

"I guess."

"Please?"

"He's not a bad guy. He just didn't want to hurt _us_. So he hurt himself, instead."

"What happened this time?"

"He just got really mad. Nothing happened or anything, it was just all of a sudden. He started yelling at us, screaming all these horrible things-"

"What kinds of things?"

"I don't know."

"I understand-"

"No, really, I don't know. We couldn't make any of it out. I think he said something about when we were kids, in the orphanage, but I don't know."

"What happened after that?"

"Well, he got a really big piece of wood, and started threatening that he'd hit himself with it-"

"Is that how he hurt his eye?"

"No. He had a knife for that."

Kloppman lifted his head to gaze at the young newsie eye to eye. The boy avoided his gaze.

"Where did he get the knife?"

"I don't know, he just had it."

"Are you sure?"

"Look, can we maybe just stop talking about this."

"I'm afraid we can't do that, I need-"

"But…I don't want to anymore. Get Jack or somebody. Just please."

Kloppman frowned.

"Alright. You can go back upstairs."

The boy nodded. He walked up the tall staircase that led to the bunk room, where all the newsies used to feel safe. Now that this had happened, none of them wanted to sleep. It was late at night - maybe even the next morning - and even the little ones were up. They were all sitting in a circle in the middle of the floor. None of them dared to look over into the bathing area. Chances were that there was still some blood lying around there. The newsboy joined the circle.

"Hey, Mush," Jack whispered, and a few other newsies chimed in.

"Hey," Mush replied. "Any news?"

"No…Race isn't back yet," Jack replied, his accent seeming almost too strong for the circumstances. Mush nodded. There was silence.

"Oh, Jack!" Mush whispered sharply, "Kloppman's probably going to ask for you, just so you know."

"I might as well go now," Jack sighed. He stood up and made his way towards the door, noticeably avoiding the wash room. Just as he opened the door, Racetrack was about to walk into the room. He was instantly met with stares of curiosity and worry, and obviously knew what his job was. Jack shut the door behind him and returned to the circle, also wanting to know about their friend.

Racetrack joined the circle and sat beside Jack, who was the only one brave enough to speak to him after a long period of silence.

"Race?"

"Just give me a second, 'kay?"

"Sure."

Racetrack didn't need long.

"He's not okay."

There was no sound. Everyone had a stone face.

"He's alive, obviously, but he's not okay. He's lost his eye."

Racetrack massaged his forehead with his thumb.

"He hasn't got one of his eyes, and he's not going to get it back. God."

Some of the boys hung their heads, some of them patted each other on the back, and a few of them even looked like they were about to cry. Suddenly, Racetrack stood up. He had a serious look on his face, and glared at each of them one by one.

"What are you all moping around for?"

None of them answered.

"You're acting as if this is some sort of terrible thing, some sort of tragedy. Well…it's not a tragedy. Kid did this to himself."

None of them dared to disagree with that.

When Kid got back he had a round, leather patch over his eye. None of them mentioned it, none of them even dared to look at it. Once again, he was back to his overly bright self, and even gave himself a new nick name: Kid _Blink. _It made them nervous to hear him say it, and sometimes they would flinch when he told them to call him by that name. Nobody dared to ask him why he had hurt himself, or why he had gotten so angry. Nobody, except Mush, years later.

"Why did you get so mad?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When you did it. You know?"

Blink didn't reply that day. He didn't reply for a long time, when he disappeared from the Lodging House in the middle of the night years later. He left an envelope on his pillow, addressed to Mush. It included a piece of paper and his leather eye patch. The paper said, simply:

_I guess we'll never know._


End file.
